There once was a barrel

The barrel stands, a one eyed elephant god, an Oliphaunt that haunted the Hobbits so much, a sentinent god ready to surprise or is it a god long ago turned into stone, its graven image now made use of by Aylinger? Metal bands encase it and hold its spirit in, leaving it bulging at the belly; its one eye looks raw and crusty, giving me a sense of sadness; but wait there is its brassy brass font that speaks for its individuality, its specialness, but also its lonesomeness. It’s Aylinger’s Fest beer, a spicy, minerally, tangy kind of beer, handled from a wooden barrel in a place that gives me a respite from the madness of the Oktoberfest. Yes please I will have another one — and the barrel shall continue with its devotional life affirming sense of being.